


Behind Closed Doors

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [112]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 38 lifetimes, 38 lifetimes fic, AU Tom Hiddleston - Freeform, Breast Sucking, Existing Relationship, F/M, Getting Back Together, Kissing, NSFW, Old Love, Tom Hiddleston AU, Vaginal Fingering, red nose day tom - Freeform, the red nose diaries, unprotected sex, vaginal intercourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Immediately following the events of "38 Lifetimes: Backseat", Tom takes Carmen home.





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to write a sequel to [Panton Street](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001871) and [Backseat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330095) so soon but a Tumblr friend insisted.

Carmen would have held her breath on the short ride to Tom’s house. Only she needed to breathe in order to kiss.

To kiss him, and be kissed by him.

It felt comfortable, one arm around her waist while the other bent so that he could rest his hand on her cheek. Her legs up and draped across his waist, but in such a way that her skirt covered her thighs, skimmed the knees.

The driver stayed a little below the speed limit, braking gently into stops at red lights. The route included precious few corners. It felt like they were flying, or floating. The scents of bitter coffee and sugary cake, a warm wet spring, lingered on Carmen’s skin.

There were a few seconds when the car stopped at home but Tom and Carmen remained close, lips still pressed together. Tom let himself out while the driver opened Carmen’s door. She carried the cake with one hand while Tom took the other to walk her to the familiar gate.

The code was different  but everything else was unchanged. The courtyard. The front windows. Only inside the house was she confronted with the first big, most important change.

Carmen, relinquished the cake and her coat to Tom. She got down on her knees and crooned, “Hello, love.”

The small dog the color of espresso who hopped down from the sofa to greet Tom regarded her cautiously. Still, he sniffed the back of the hand she had offered. When she gently turned the hand so she could scratch him gently under his chin, he came forward to nuzzle at her.

Carmen wanted to hold him like a baby, but he scampered off when he heard Tom open the door to the back garden. She joined Tom in the kitchen, accepting the offer of a glass of cold water, and then another. She watched Tom lock the door behind the dog when he came back in.

“House looks good,” Carmen said.

“Thanks,” replied Tom with a nod. “Just did some work in here, but otherwise it’s unchanged.”

Carmen wandered into the lounge. She smiled fondly at the sofa, the site of so many long afternoons spent reading or watching telly. Wrapped up in Tom. She laughed when she caught sight of something twinkling at her from the top of the coffee table.

“Ugh!” She picked up the snow globe, the one from Venice that she had sent to Tom as an opening night gift. “You know, I wouldn’t be mad if you threw this out.”

“Never!” Tom protested, taking it from her. “It has pride of place here, and it shall remain.”

“It’s a crummy present, Tom,” Carmen said.

“It’s charming,” Tom retorted.

“I thought it would make you laugh.”

Tom smiled, then leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. “You thought right.”

She kissed him back, nipping at the corner of his mouth. Laughing at the tickle of his beard upon her cheek. This was new. True, he had worn a beard for a while now, but when last they were together, he was blond. Clean-shaven, trim and sharp. A little bulkier around the shoulders, warier in his eyes. But now, he looked hopeful. Or almost afraid to hope that whatever reason or force had brought her back to him was reason enough to compel her to stay. To keep him from making the same, foolish, worthless mistake.

Carmen smiled. “I owe you something else. Something more.”

“You do,” Tom said, chuckling.

“Did you have something in mind?” Carmen asked. She blinked, and for a second Tom thought she might have actually glanced at the stairs that led up to his bedroom.

“Don’t play coy, Carmen,” he said.

“Who’s playing coy?’

“You, love,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

Carmen took another breath, snuggling closer into him as she exhaled. Her eyes were closed, and remained shut even as she felt Tom step back. Take her by the hand. Begin to lead her forward. When her arm drifted up to follow his, she opened her eyes so she could see her way up the stairs. Follow the shape of him, see shadows fall across his shoulders and his back as they moved down the hall and then across the threshold of his bedroom.

His bed. She still thought of her having a side, a thought affirmed by the presence of another snow globe on what used to be her nightstand. The original snow globe that four years ago had materialized in his kitchen, foreshadowing perhaps their meeting.

Tom hovered over her as she sat on the bed, shaking the snow globe gently in her hands. When he moved to give her space, she patted the space beside her. Accepting the invitation, he took a seat and waited for her to say something. Do anything.

Carmen returned the snow globe to it spot, feeling behind her for the nightstand so she didn’t have to turn away from Tom. She didn’t want to waste a second not looking at him. She pressed her forehead to his and reached up, running her fingers through the long curls until she began to rub his temples. Again she nuzzled his cheek, indulged in the scratch of his beard. He looked good but so different.

Tom tasted the same. Hot and wet, slightly bitter but bright. Coffee in the morning, tea at night.

His touch was the same. It was gentle, but never tentative. Long, strong fingers held her in place, hands stroking up and down her back before they pressed her at the shoulders to lay her down upon the bed.

“Does this come off?” Tom knelt on the floor in front of her, idly fingering the last of a trail of buttons that ran up from the hem of her dress to the bottom of the deep v-neck. When she nodded, Tom set to work, nimbly undoing each one. The fabric was black crepe de chine, speckled with daffodils. He couldn’t help smiling when the dress parted to reveal a full slip, in the lightest shade of blue. Another layer to dispense of, a boundary to overcome. It cooled the warmth of her skin, which was caramel in the light. After the slip, which fell to the floor just as easily as the dress, Tom took a moment to consider her. The soft thighs, round tummy and tits. The hair was the same, if threaded through with more grays than he recalled. The dark mischief of her eyes. Insouciance lived in her lips.

Tom hastened the process of tugging off his jumper, slipping off jeans and boxers, kicked away boots and socks. Carmen offered her knees, bending her legs and arching her hips so she could shimmy out of her own green lace knickers. Tom accepted them, pulling them off and down past her feet before he joined her on the bed.

And they were so joined, Tom’s face pressed into the side of her neck. Scarcely breathing, for there she was. Lying beneath him, warm and still and  _ there _ . She shifted, parting her legs. Wet against his belly, just above his semi-hard cock. Tom’s eyes were wet so when he lifted his face to kiss Carmen again, a few scant tears fell upon her cheeks.

He hardly knew what to do next. Kissing was just the start. He was aroused, his cock twitching and growing against the soft swell of her ass. She widened her legs, and rolled her lips. Tom moaned, and he reached for her hips. Grabbed her thighs, seeking purchase as he ground against her.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Like that.”

And Tom missed that. The tone of her voice. Tight with desire and heat. The deep breaths she took, had to take between kisses, because he knew no way to kiss her that was not greedy. Desperate to the point of rough. Sobs were cut off by gulps where swallowed by probing tongues and lips pulled tight.

Tom bit. Licked. Pulled at her skin as he kissed down her body. He indulged himself in her breasts, swirling his tongue around her hard nipples far slowly until he could hardly stand it and he had to console himself by sucking upon them instead. Carmen squirmed, arms trapped at her sides by him so all she could do was suffer his attentions and cry out how pleasurable this torture was.

On his way down to plunge his tongue inside her, lavish her clit with long and slow swipes, Carmen protested. Even as she fingered herself, she urged him back up. She wanted to kiss him as he fucked her. Rearrange so they could line up, nuzzle, whisper to each other all the things they had been saving up for each other these last few years. Carmen wanted to sob into Tom’s chest, anoint his flesh and his heart with her tears. Apologies and forgiveness. Forgive him for leaving, and apologize for not fighting harder. For not trying sooner. For not putting her ass on a plane to Rhode Island on a sunny summer day, finding that screechy entitled thing, and tossing her bony ass in the ocean before bringing her man back. Back to his senses and back to her arms where he belonged.

But these were almost forgotten. The weight of him, and the push of his cock against her pussy. Inside, and she lost her breath yet again. She had missed how big he was, and how deliberate he was when he was in bed. Carmen used to scold him, say he didn’t have to be so precious and tender. When Tom looked in her eyes, bottoming out so they were closer than ever, she remembered that this was his way. Pumping in and out, timing the thrust of his hips with the licks of his tongue. Looking in her eyes, begging and urging her to move with him. Tom thumbing at her clit so her pleasure burned through her, and the could come together.

“Car, I’m going to…” Tom’s breath hitched. They hadn’t even made a show of fumbling for protection, asking for histories. It was stupid, Carmen knew, but her addled brain was at the mercy of her foolish, sentimental, greedy heart. She locked her ankles behind his back and bit his shoulder. Stuttering and whining became moaning and wailing, and she felt his pulse. His blood danced. In the heart behind his chest, and in his cock which throbbed and thrust inside her. Who cared if she was an idiot. Carmen was alive.

When she came, she came hard. So did he. Not quite at the same time, which would have been a bit much to expect. After so many years. At their advanced ages. She liked shuddering through echoes of her climax, only to be interrupted by his own orgasm. His pulse again, slowing to a relaxed pace after she and her body gave him the pleasure and relief he sought.

They took deep breaths. Tom pulled out, and Carmen squeaked as she felt his semen begin to leak out of her. He took care of the duvet while she peed. Carmen started the shower, hugging Tom hello when he stepped in to join her. They cleaned up, giggling like fools and got back into bed. Setting alarms and saying little more than “That was nice” and “I thought so too” and “Thank you”.

Not “I love you”. Not then. Not yet.

But soon, they thought to themselves. Very soon.


End file.
